


All That Glitters

by secretsidgenowriter



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Business Man Geno, M/M, POV Multiple, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, Stripper/Teacher Sid, non-hockey au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 16:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20312257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsidgenowriter/pseuds/secretsidgenowriter
Summary: They stare at each other as the seconds tick by, until Sid feels like he’s going to burst out of his skin.Someone has to say something and it might as well be him.He takes a deep breath and says “listen,” at the same time Mr. Malkin says “Mr. Crosby?”





	All That Glitters

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this [post](https://nomorelonelydays.tumblr.com/post/184474424392/submission-im-sorry-but-i-saw-this-and-thought)

“You’re late.”

“Ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes is ten minutes late.”

Sid rolls his eyes and hefts his bag further up on his shoulder. There’s no winning this argument with Reggie. He knows this because he’s had it dozens of times before.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I was grading papers and I lost track of time-.”

“I don’t really want to hear it,” Reggie says, “get changed and get in there. Don’t let it happen again.”

Sid presses his lips together and nods even though they both know it’ll probably happen again.

The club is nearly empty as he makes his way toward the back. Nicole is half heartedly dancing for a few guys up on stage while Luiz waits tables. He hates it when it’s like this. So slow and bleak. It’s easier when it’s packed and everything is a rush and by the end of the night everyone’s faces have blurred together and his ears are ringing from the music, drowning out every gross thing that was whispered to him.

He knows it’s bound to pick up. It’s a Saturday and earlier in the week a nervous sounding guy called in asking if they took reservations for bachelor parties. They don’t, but all the girls got a big kick over someone actually calling to ask.

Sid opens the door to the dressing room and immediately meets Jasmine’s eyes in the mirror of the vanity she’s sitting in front of.

“Sid, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” she says as she spins around in her chair, bright red hair cascading over her shoulders. “I tried to cover for you but apparently I used the sick grandmother excuse last time and he didn’t believe me.”

Sid waves off her apology and drops his bag on the station beside hers. “It’s okay,” he tells her. “Thank you for trying.”

“What was it this time?”

“Spelling tests,” Sid says as he unzips his bag. “Most of them still can’t get the hang of the I before E thing but they try.”

“If you ever need help bring some here with you. I’ll look over them when I take my breaks.”

Sid smiles at her. He’s grateful to have a friend like her. She took him fully under her wing when he started here and helped him through the terrifying first week. He’d be lost without her.

“Looks like you already got a jump on getting ready though,” Jasmine says as he presses her fingertips to the corner of Sid’s brow. When she pulls them away they shine in the light from the vanity. “Glitter is a bold choice but I like it.”

“That’s not for tonight,” Sid says as he swings his head around to look in the mirror. “Craft project with the kids. We were making paper flowers to celebrate Spring. I thought I got all of it off but guess not.”

“That shit never comes off,” Jasmine says with a laugh, “you should know that. How’d you make the flowers? It’s supposed to rain for the next week, I need something to keep the kids busy.”

Jasmine has three kids of her own. This is her second job as well. Maybe that’s why Sid feels so close to her, they’re both her out of necessity. Bills don’t pay themselves.

Sid glances over his shoulder at the clock above the door. He should really be out there. “I took photos but I’ll have to show them to you later. Reggie is going to kill me.”

Jasmine rolls her eyes and turns back toward the mirror. “You really shouldn’t let him worry you,” she says as he picks up an eyeliner pencil and leans forward to get closer to the glass. “You’re job is safe as long as you have an ass like that.”

“He could stick it behind the bar,” Sid says and Jasmine winces. Bartenders don’t bring in anywhere near as much as the waiters and dancers do, halfway hidden behind the bar and too far to touch.

“Yeah, you better get out there,” she says and Sid nods and pulls his shirt over his head.

-

Sitting in his car in the parking lot of a strip club on a Saturday night, Geno would very much like to be anywhere but right here right now. Like at home, with his daughter, rereading Charlotte’s Web for the hundredth time.

Or, short of that, swimming with sharks without a cage with his pockets full of chum or running from a grizzly bear while he’s covered with honey.

Literally anywhere doing anything else.

When he was first invited to this bachelor party he thought maybe they’d all go out to dinner. Maybe they’d hit up a bar. Maybe they’d walk across the bridge and go to a Pirates game.

He never for a second thought they’d be going to a strip club. He didn’t even think people did that anymore, especially not his coworkers, most of whom are veering headlong into middle age with families waiting for them at home.

He thought seriously about cancelling, about lying and telling them that Zara was sick and he had to stay home or that he couldn’t find a babysitter but the hell he would catch for that…the dozens of emails making fun of him and water cooler talk that would spread around the office, not caring a bit about what HR had to say about it…it wouldn’t be worth it.

So, he’s here. He’ll make it through the night. He’ll hang by the bar and only make eye contact and he’ll put enough distance between himself and his coworkers that he can pretend that he doesn’t even know them.

A car pulls into the parking lot, high beams nearly blinding him until it turns and pulls into a spot a few rows over from him.

It’s a sweet, little sports car, the kind he dreamed of owning before he had a kid and needed room for a car seat.

The high beams flick off and a moment later Tim climbs out. Geno sighs. So this is really happening.

Tim was the one to pull this whole thing together for Peter, who is getting married in a week to a very lovely woman that Geno met at last years holiday party.

He wonders what lie Peter told her about where they’d be tonight.

Two more cars turn into the parking lot and Geno’s coworkers start to spill out. He has the sinking suspicion that some of them are already tipsy and it’s confirmed when they surround his car and start yelling for him to get out.

He pops the door open but it’s immediately yanked out of his hands by Steven, the fifty five year old that works in accounts payable and whose cubical is plastered with photos of the grandchild he just had last year.

He should not be at a strip club. None of them should be at a strip club.

But Geno unclips his seat belt, climbs out of his minivan, and lets himself be teased by his coworkers who all thought for sure that he was going to skip out.

“Does everyone have their singles,” Kevin shouts out, “a bunch of them. More than you think you need. We’re making it rain tonight, boys!”

Geno cringes. He is both too old and too young for this.

With arms looped around his shoulders, Geno’s practically forced into the building where his ID is checked and his cover charge is paid.

-

Thankfully Sid doesn’t get stuck behind the bar and by some miracle he isn’t put on as a server either.

Sid doesn’t dance, at least not up on stage. He has the strength and coordination to work with the pole but given his assets, it’s better that he does things one on one.

It was a lot for him to handle when he first started. A shy and quiet grade school teacher whose student loans needed to be paid off and whose bank account was dwindling.

It was actually his sister who unknowingly put the idea in his head.

“You could always strip,” she deadpanned after listening to a particularly long rant of his about the cost of gas and how the school board wouldn’t even approve the purchase of tissues and how the teachers had to buy them out of their own pockets. She had her own things to worry about- midterms to study for and college acceptance essays to write.

Sid had laughed the idea off with a _“ha, ha, very funny,” _but after they hung up the idea had lingered and grew and finally manifested itself into this, lap dances for strangers who tipped him well.

On a good night he could clean up. He could pay two or three bills easy and still have some left over. It’s easy money, if he ignores the way the occasion hand wanders or the unwanted invitations to the bathroom or the alley beside the club or even out to their car.

If he pushes all that away, it’s easy.

Being a teacher gives him joy and fulfillment. Being a dancer gives him breathing room.

-

“Whoa, there are guys in here.”

Geno lifts his eyes from the stained patch of carpet on the floor in front of him and looks up. Sure enough there’s a guy dressed in next to nothing up on stage and a handful of others in skimpy outfits handing out drinks.

“It’s 2019,” Tim says as he slaps Kevin on the back. “A little something for everyone.”

Tim might be an overzealous asshole about 99% of all things but at least his open minded, Geno has to give him that.

Geno shakes his head at how low the bar is set for his co-workers that even having basic human decency is something that should be celebrated and follows the herd further into the club where the music gets louder and the air gets hotter.

“Am going to get drinks,” Geno says, pulling back from the group and hitching his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the bar. “Anyone want?”

He’s quickly shut down and pulled back into the middle of the group.

“That’s what the servers are for,” Tim says, leering at a woman in a skin tight bodysuit carrying a tray of shots.

They sit in a horseshoe shaped booth off to the side of the main stage where a woman is somehow hanging upside down off the pole. It’s impressive, and Geno is tempted to toss a handful of bills up on stage for her athleticism alone.

He drops his gaze back to the table in front of him when a server comes over and takes their drink order.

Tim orders a round of shots to start and slips the waitress ten dollar bill and a wink as he tells her not to be a stranger.

Geno feels like following her to apologize for him.

“Geno, man, what the fuck,” Tim starts and Geno’s eyes snap up. “You look miserable. You look like you’re the one who’s about to get married.” He laughs and elbows Peter who fake laughs in return. “You know what, I was gonna buy Peter here the first dance but I think you need it more. Loosen you up.” He stands, like he’s ready to call someone over. “I’ll let you pick. Who do you like?”

Geno’s mind catches up with Tim’s words and panic floods him. “No,” he says, “no, no, no. Please. We here for Peter, is his party.” He feels a little awful about throwing Peter under the bus like that, especially when Peter looks back at him, wide-eyed and frightened but it’s every man for themselves here and Geno can’t be bothered with anything more than passing sympathy. “Should start with him.”

“Nope,” Tim says, popping the P and setting his hands on his hips. “Pick someone or I’ll pick for you.”

Geno feels like crying or screaming or maybe both at the same time and he scans the room looking for the nearest emergency exit but gets stuck on a dancer two tables over.

He’s sitting astride another patron’s thighs so all Geno can see is his back- perfect and pale and clearly well defined with muscles. He has broad shoulders and a thick, solid waist that curves into well rounded hips and a truly impressive ass that’s just barely covered in the smallest pair of black briefs that Geno has ever seen. The dancer raises up on the patron’s lap and Geno can’t believe the size of his thighs.

Unfortunately, Tim seems to notice the way he’s staring and follows his eyeline. “Him?” He asks. “You want him? Okay, man, no problem. Looks like he’s just finishing up. Hang on.”

Geno shoots up in his seat, trying to follow but he’s boxed in by the table and his coworkers legs and before he climb over them Tim has already reached the dancer who is just sliding off the patron’s lap.

He and Tim talk for a moment before Tim holds out a wad of cash and without missing a beat the dancer takes it then turns his head and follows the path of Tim’s pointed finger.

Across the darkened club Geno and the dancer make eye contact and immediately, it clicks.

-

Sid’s not entirely sure what a heart attack feels like but he’s pretty sure he’s having one. Or maybe a stroke. Possibly an embolism.

He doesn’t know what for sure but something is definitely happening because the man he’s currently staring at standing two tables away is definitely the father of one of his students.

Zara Malkin is her name. Bright and precocious with the most charming Russian accent, something she shared with her father when they met earlier in the school year at the open house.

Mr. Malkin was tall and handsome and looked devastatingly delicious in his suit.

It’s the same vibe he’s giving off now, all tall and long and lean and wrapped up in a navy blue suit that fits him like a glove and Sid would be thrilled to see him if this was anywhere else in the world and if he was wearing more than a tiny scrap of clothing.

Somehow, Sid makes it over to Mr. Malkin’s table. He doesn’t feel himself move, he honestly can’t feel his legs or his arms or his hands and the only way he knows he’s still alive is because his heart is pounding over the heavy bass of the music that’s being piped through the speakers.

The guys on either side of Mr. Malkin shove over, giving Sid just enough room to squeeze into the booth and stand in front of him.

There’s recognition in Mr. Malkin’s deep brown eyes and his friends have started to whistle and holler and if Sid is going to lose his day job tomorrow he should really do all he can tonight.

He puts his hand on Mr. Malkin’s shoulder in an attempt to soothe him down into his seat but Mr. Malkin resists, putting his hand on Sid’s waist then immediately removing it like he’s been burned.

“You have somewhere else to go,” he asks, “somewhere quiet? Private?”

The roar from his friends is deafening and somehow overpowers the sound of Sid’s thundering heart.

Sid nods and he vaguely hears the guy that paid him jokingly say “I’m not paying for any champagne room stuff.”

Sid can feel Mr. Malkin’s presence behind him as they make their way back through the club to the roped off area where only VIP’s are allowed.

Sid nods to Max who is working security tonight and he unclips the rope and lets them both pass.

For safety reasons there are no doors on any of the rooms but there is a curtain which Sid holds open for Mr. Malkin then steps through and slides it closed.

The fabric does nothing to drown out the music but it gives them the illusion of privacy and right now that’s what Sid needs.

They stare at each other as the seconds tick by, until Sid feels like he’s going to burst out of his skin.

Someone has to say something and it might as well be him.

He takes a deep breath and says “listen,” at the same time Mr. Malkin says “Mr. Crosby?”

-

It’s been months since Geno’s seen Zara’s most favorite, favorite, _favorite _teacher at the open house at her school. Then, he was dressed in ill fitting khakis and a cardigan that looked like it would be right at home in Mr. Rogers closet. He looks a lot different now, nearly naked with a thin sheen of sweat coating his body, his hair out of place, and glitter shimmering against his skin, but oh, Geno would recognize those eyes anywhere.

He had sat front and center and hung on every single word Mr. Crosby said that night. It took mere minutes to figure out why his daughter was so taken with him. Mr. Crosby was smart and kind and funny in an awkwardly charming way. It was clear how much he loved his job and how much he cared for the kids. Plus he was young and handsome, details that weren’t lost on Geno or on a number of other parents in the room given the whispers that he happened to overhear.

Mr. Crosby had seemed so straight laced that night. Almost bashful. This is the last place he ever expected to run into him and he’s having a hell of a time putting the two sides of him together.

“Is Mr. Crosby, yes,” he asks and Mr. Crosby shuts his eyes and nods, letting his head hang when he’s done. “Okay,” Geno says. “Okay.”

Mr. Crosby finally picks his head up and folds his hands together in front of his chest. “Listen,” he starts, “I’m begging you, please, please don’t tell the school board.”

Geno frowns. Why would he ever?

“I know that this is…I don’t know. Terrible,” Mr. Crosby continues, “and inappropriate and million other things and I shouldn’t be here but you have to understand, I’m desperate. I’m broke. I’m in debt and every bit of money I make goes to paying off loans or buying markers or safety scissors and those special left handed scissors because I have four lefties in my class and I want them to be able to cut out their hand turkeys like everyone else. I tried doing the barista thing and the bartender thing and the waiter thing but it just wasn’t enough. It was cutting it and this is not ideal, trust me, I know but the money is good, and it won’t be forever but for right now it’s all that I have. It’s helping me keep my teaching job and I love to teach. It’s the only thing I’ve ever really loved and if I lost it I don’t know what I would do so please, don’t tell anyone about this.”

Geno puts his hands up like he’s trying to calm a frightened animal and with his wide eyes and tense stance, that’s exactly what Mr. Crosby reminds him of. “Mr. Crosby,” he starts and Mr. Crosby shakes his head.

“You don’t have to call me that. Actually, please don’t call me that, it makes me….” He trails off and gestures to his stomach. “It’s kind of making me nauseous right now.”

“Sorry, don’t remember first name. When Zara talks about you is all _Mr. Crosby this _and_ Mr. Crosby that.”_

“It’s Sid,” he says, “my name is Sid.”

“Sid,” Geno repeats. “I’m Geno. Is nice to see you again.”

Sid laughs, all bright and bubbly until the enormity of the situation seems to hit him again. “Geno,” he says, “please-.”

“Not going to tell,” Geno says but it does nothing to soothe the worry behind Sid’s eyes. “If I tell have to tell people I was here. No offense, but don’t want that.”

“There are other ways. You could write an anonymous letter or send an email. There are plenty of ways you could ruin my life without touching your own. Trust me. I’ve thought about them all.”

“Not going to do any of that. Promise.”

Sid still looks wary and Geno places a hand over his heart.

“Swear it,” Geno says. “You are Zara’s favorite teacher. Have to understand, since coming to America she hasn’t had best time. Kids tease about accent and what kind of food she brings to lunch. She hate school but then she has you for teacher and she’s excited again. She wants to go. Is best thing to see. Could never take that away from her.”

Sid looks down at his feet and scuffs them against the floor.

“She’s really excited to go to school,” he asks and Geno smiles. There’s the sweet guy who stood in front of the classroom and told every single parent how special their child was.

“Yes, all because of you. Plus, is not like you’re doing anything illegal. Not hurting anyone.”

“Not everyone sees it the same way.”

“Well, lucky you see me here and not someone else.”

Sid sighs and his entire body sags. Geno steps out of the way so he can collapse onto the couch behind them.

“I guess some of my luck was bound to run out at some point. I pushed it too far.”

He runs a hand over his face and Geno sits down beside him, taking extra care to make sure he leaves space between them.

“I don’t want to be doing this,” Sid says as he leans his head back on the couch. “I’m not ashamed of it,” he amends quickly, “but this isn’t what I want. The constant fear of getting caught, being nice to guys that grab at me just because I need their tips.” He shakes his head and Geno thinks of all the dollar bills stored in his wallet. “If the school ever found out I would lose my job and if my family ever found out…” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t know what to do.”

Geno clears his throat and lifts himself up enough to dig his wallet out of the back pocket of his pants. “It’s not a lot,” he says as he flips it open and pulls out the money. Before he can hand it over Sid is pushing it back and refusing.

“No. No. I can’t take your money. I didn’t even do anything. Unless.” He looks up at Geno, all wide eyed again and Geno gasps.

“No, no, of course not. Not asking for that. Don’t want that.”

Sid leans back against the couch with a frown. “Oh.”

“Not that I don’t want,” Geno says quickly, “if things were different and you weren’t Zara’s teacher then yes, would definitely want.”

Sid narrows his eyes.

“Very obvious you’re handsome, I notice that way back when I first see you at Zara’s school that you’re very good looking. All parents think so, I hear them talking and now-.” He gestures wildly to Sid’s body as he feels his face start to flame with embarrassment but he can’t seem to stop himself. “You look really good,” he continues, “really, really, good and if I could would definitely–.”

Sid stops him, thankfully, by curling his hand around Geno’s wrist and Geno can’t believe he found a way to make this night even worse.

“Okay,” Sid says, “it’s okay. I get it.”

“Just didn’t want to offend,” Geno explains and Sid nods, his lips pressed together like he’s trying to hold back a smile. Geno’s seen his smile. He wishes he would just let it happen. “Want you to take money,” he tells Sid. “Want to help. Maybe it’s one less dance with creepy guy who won’t stop grabbing.”

Sid does smile then and Geno feels like it lights up the dim room.

“Thank you,” he says as he takes he offered cash. “I wish all my customers were like you.”

Geno smiles and pushes himself to his feet. “Have a good night, Sid.”

He’s just about to pull back the curtain when Sid calls his name.

“Just so you know,” Sid says when Geno turns back around. He’s standing more confidently this time, slapping the money against the palm of his hand. “I noticed you too, you know, at the school. You sat right up front and I was getting annoyed because all I wanted to do was look at you but there were twenty other parents in the room. It was driving me crazy. I just wanted you to know, if things were different, I would want to, too.”

Geno is speechless even though there are a hundred things he wants to say.

“You should get back out there,” Sid tells him. “Your friends are going to be wondering where you are.”

“Not my friends, just coworkers. Worst coworkers. Didn’t even want to come tonight but they make me. Going to want all the details about what happened here. What do I tell them?” If he says nothing happened they won’t believe him but if he makes something up…it’ll feel like he’s besmirching Sid’s good name. He can’t just lie like that.

Sid’s quiet for a moment then he presses his fingertips to the edge of his brow and wipes some of the glitter away. Then, he touches Geno’s cheek transferring the glitter onto his skin. His coworkers will have a field day with that Geno can’t seem to care.

“Just tell them you had a good time,” Sid says softly and that’s certainly, suddenly not a lie. “Parent-teacher conferences are coming up. Maybe I’ll see you there?”

Geno nods dumbly but it makes Sid smile again and that makes it all worth it.

“Good,” Sid says then he’s slipping out through the curtain and back into the club.

Geno takes a moment to collect himself and tries to wrap his mind around this wild and wonderful night before he follows.


End file.
